Ian doesn't say much on the drive back to the lodge. When we arrive, Maria, Cass, and Sofia greet us with red eyes and tear-stained faces, and together we tell them as much as we can without going into too much detail about magical barriers and how to break them.
Fortunately, the Walkers are too concerned about what we found to care much about how we found it.
We're gathered in the main hall of the lodge, grouped around the fireplace, where Ian started a small blaze even though it isn't very cold. A pot of strong tea sits on a low side-table, and Maria pours everyone a cup. No one really wants it, but we all drink it anyway. It gives us something to do with our hands, and something to look at besides the grief-stricken faces of the three women.
"But you're not sure it was her, right?" Sofia asks, leaning against Cass, who has an arm around her sister's shoulder. "It might have been someone else."
"No, I couldn't tell. And unless they find some larger fragments or something that survived the fire, it might be impossible to positively ID the remains at all," Ian says. "If the fire was hot enough, there might not even be usable DNA."
"How do you know that?" Carlos asks, sounding impressed.
"I watch a lot of crime dramas," Ian admits.
I realize that this is true. At every hotel we stopped at on the way here, somehow we always got stuck watching some forensics show.
Maria sniffs and wipes her eyes. "Even if they do, our police department is a grand total of five people and an office. They'll have to send the bones off to some other lab somewhere, and who knows how long that could take before we get an answer."
It seems unlikely to me that the body in Inez's car would be someone other than Inez, given that, as far as we've heard, she's the only person missing, but I understand their need to hold on to hope until they know for sure. Suddenly, I realize that we might be able to help with that.
Ian had warned us to keep mentions of magic to a minimum, but as I witness the Walkers' pain, I'm finding it difficult to obey. For one thing, it seems unfair that I should be feeling so happy while they suffer.
I'm sad that someone is dead, of course, but ever since Ian said he loved me I've been filled with a happiness I can barely contain. All I want to do is get him alone and hear him say it again—preferably in a breathless voice, rough with raw passion, while he—
I blink a few times to clear my mind and give myself a little mental slap.
Dead body, Sam. Focus.
"Carlos, Ian...can I talk to you guys for a minute?" I ask.
They both look over at me in surprise, but nod, and we excuse ourselves.
Stepping outside onto the wide, wrap-around porch, I go to the rail and lean against it, staring out into the shadows gathering under the trees. "Carlos, do you think you'd be willing to act as a vessel if we could summon the person who died in that car?" I ask.
He frowns at me. "I suppose so," he says. "You think you can do that? Summon a spirit?"
I think for a moment. "I don't know. I watched Karin do it plenty of times, but I've never done it myself. Actually, I was thinking that Toni could."
"Absolutely not," Ian says, shaking his head. "I've told you both already, I'm not bringing Toni anywhere near this place."
I bite my lip. "I think that should be up to Maria and the Walkers, and Carlos, of course. If they agree, and he's willing, I think we should ask her for help."
"Sam, she tried to trap you, drug you, and sell you back to a terrible man for information. What makes you think she'd want to help you talk to a ghost?"
"She'll help if I ask," Carlos says, "and I'm willing. Sam's right, though. We should come clean and tell the Walkers everything we know. Let them decide."
Ian thinks for a moment. "Fine. I'll explain things. In the meantime, you two go to the cabin and get some rest. I'll let you know what they say.
I'd like to stay with Ian, to be there to help explain, but I understand his hesitation. The Walkers have welcomed Ian warmly enough, but Carlos and I are merely tolerated, accepted as his companions, but not as equals. We're uninvited guests; he's practically family.
"Alright," I agree, "but tell them not to take too long with their decision. It might have been as much as a week already since the death, and not all spirits stick around. I have a feeling this one will still be in an accessible realm, given how they died, but there's no guarantee."
"Understood...sort of," Ian says, frowning, and leans over to kiss the top of my head. "Go on—you're a mess. Get cleaned up and I'll be there in a bit."
He starts to turn away but I grab the front of his shirt and pull him down into a real, if brief, kiss. He freezes for a moment, probably self-conscious that the Walkers are so close and might see us through the windows, and I realize we have yet to establish how they feel about dick-on-dick. For all I know, they might have a torches and pitchforks kind of reaction. I let Ian go and step back.
"Sorry," I say, feeling a blush of embarrassment warming my face.
"No, I'm sorry," Ian says. "I need to make it clear to the Walkers just what and who we all are, and that includes you and me being lovers. If that means we're no longer welcome, then we'll leave. What I came for doesn't seem to be here anyway," he adds. "Go on, now. I'll tell you how it goes."
He gives me a smile—it's small, but I see the warmth of it in his eyes—and then he leaves us and rejoins the Walkers inside.
~
In the cabin, Carlos and I take turns rinsing off in the cramped little shower, and then wait in nervous silence for Ian to return. Carlos looks through pictures on his phone, and I lay on my bed, staring at the underside of the upper bunk.
"Hey, Sammy," Carlos says after a few minutes, startling me from another reverie involving Ian and an imaginary, much roomier shower, "do you think Jack might be...like us?"
"Like us how?" I ask, sitting up. "A demon magnet?"
He makes an exasperated noise. "No, man—gay."
"I'm not gay," I reply.
He bursts out laughing.
"I'm not! I'm pansexual. That's different."
"Are you sure?" he raises his brows. "Because the only person I've ever seen you look at is Ian. I'm not even bi, and I can see that Sofia is smokin', but you haven't glanced at her twice—except with that jealous little glare thing you do."
He makes a tiny "rawr" sound and a scratching motion with his hand.
"Seems like you've been watching me pretty close," I snap back.
"Not really," he shrugs. "You're just super obvious. I mean, if learning that you and Ian are a thing comes as a surprise to anyone, they're either blind or willfully ignorant."
"Oh." I'd thought I was being subtle. He's right, too. Samasa had been...well, just sexual, really. He'd just wanted the energy: he hadn't cared what shape or flavor it came in. I'd thought I was like that too, but maybe not. In truth, Ian is the only person I've wanted like that so far.
"But about Jack," he says, leaning forward. "What do you think?"
I lift my shoulders in a shrug. "I don't know. I guess...you're right. I haven't really looked at anyone but Ian. You should ask him."
He grimaces. "Uh, no thanks. I like my face the way it is. I thought you were an incubus. Can't you just, like, look at him and tell?"
"It's not like gay people have rainbow auras, Carlos," I say. "No, I can't just look at him and tell."
"Oh." He slumps, disappointed.
I roll my eyes. "Okay, okay, maybe I can usually tell. When I was Samasa, I—or he—had some sort of extra sense, I guess. It would guide him, help him know how to appear to his...er...partners. I don't have that anymore, but I can still get a pretty good sense of who people are. Like, when I saw Ian for the first time, I couldn't tell if he was gay, or straight, or bi, or what; but I could tell that he was a good guy who would help me out if he saw I was in trouble. I think Jack is a good guy, too, but..."
"But?"
"It's just... the Walkers are all very...tight-knit. They see Ian as one of them because he's a Shifter and a bear, but even so, if it ever came to a choice between him or the good of their clan?" I shake my head. "Let's see how Maria and the girls respond to what Ian tells them. If it's positive, then I'd say you can be pretty sure Jack won't rearrange your face if you hit on him."
"Great. How encouraging," he sighs.
We lapse back into silence, and as the aches and pains I picked up along the course of the day's long walk begin to fade, I start to doze.
"Hey," Carlos says, dragging me back from the edge of sleep. "I'm gonna go check what's going on. It's been almost an hour."
"Fine," I say. "They're probably just talking 'bear' though."
As I told him before, I'm pretty good at reading people. The Walkers might be one weird quirk short of a cult, but they're not violent. If they don't like what Ian has to say, they might kick us off their land, but I'm fairly certain they won't hurt us—certain enough it's not keeping me awake, anyway.
Carlos makes some sort of noise, and a moment later I hear the door shut behind him as he goes out.
With the cabin quiet, I drift back towards sweet oblivion, entertaining myself on the way with a fantasy about all the things Ian and I could do in the cab of his truck.
I've just gotten to an interesting bit involving the seatbelts and some hand tools, when I hear the door open again.
I swear Carlos has inhumanly perfect timing—he even manages to interrupt my dirty daydreams right at the good parts. I sigh and start to sit up.
"Well, what did they—"
I'm cut off by a heavy blow to the side of my head, falling back against the pillow with a cry that gets cut off by another pillow being pressed over my face.
I struggle, and panic, and scratch blindly at whoever's trying to kill me, but they're too strong. And then real oblivion comes with a terrible burning in my chest, a roaring darkness in my ears, and a blinding burst of light behind my eyes.